


Sunday Football club for men

by LaBarbarossa



Series: All the world is in town [5]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Football, Gen, Kids, Sports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 10:48:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16386455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaBarbarossa/pseuds/LaBarbarossa
Summary: Bonding time between Arthur and Matthew





	Sunday Football club for men

**Author's Note:**

  * For [losthitsu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/losthitsu/gifts), [stirringwinds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stirringwinds/gifts).



     “Now son.” Arthur Kirkland was dribbling with a football in the foggy morning of Montréal’s suburbs in front of his half-asleep son, “A father got the duty to teach his offspring the important things in life. Today Matthew, we’re going to practice the manlier, most noble sport there is: foot-ball!” And to emphasize he presented his new ball right under his son nose, who chose to ignore it.

     “Where are our paddings then?” Arthur feigned an air of indignation toward his son’s inquiry.

     “We don’t need any padding, Matt! We’re playing football! REAL FOOTBALL! Not this barely organised parody of Rugby the Yankees dare to call football” he added with a snort “This is the real game! It requires finesse! Speed! Tactical thinking! Not bashing each other like mindless drones hoping the ball somehow crosses the line!”

     “I like Rugby, Dad. Can we play it instead?”

     “I… I don’t have the required ball for that. I planned that for you latter, you need to grow up a bit first.”

     “I think I’m big enough already, I’m nine!” Now it was Matt’s turn to feign indignation, “We played at it at school!”

     “Yes, it must have been brutal, I’m sure.”

     “I’m sure you were already playing at it when you were nine too!”

     Arthur considered telling him that it’s precisely the reason why he didn’t want to inflict this to Matthew. The memories of being tackled and dogpiled by all three of his eldest siblings at once were still a little bit too fresh and painful in his mind. Not that he’d ever be this brutal himself with his beloved child, but he had to come up with a good excuse.

     “Anyway! Our jerseys are brand new so we won’t be rolling on the ground for now.”

     “Footballers do roll on the ground too. Every time they get a little pushed, they fall and pretend they’re hurt.” Matthew suddenly beamed, “Are we going to do that too?”

     “No. We won’t.” Snapped Arthur, and Matthew had the gall to look disappointed. “We’re not playing Italian-style football alright?”

     “Isn’t it racist to say that, Dad?”

     “What? No! No no no… That’s just how they do it, son! They’re faking it!”

     “So English footballers don’t do that?”

     “No. No they don’t. It’s unsportsmanlike to do such a thing so we don’t.”

     “Uh uh…”

 

     Matt didn’t look very convinced by his father’s explanation and was probably thinking of something to retort. Arthur was beginning to see what Blair was meaning when she said he was starting to become “a prickly little smartass, like you”. She said it with an affectionate tone however, that contrasted sharply with the kicks she used to give him when calling him that.

     “And shouldn’t we be at least ten to play football?”

     “Eleven actually, for each team. For a whole game, it...”

     “So, we need to be twenty-two. There’s only two of us, Dad!”

     “We don’t need to be twenty-two to play in a backyard. It’s going to be some fun between us, not an official competition!”

     “So why didn’t you asked Amy to come too?”

     “She has things to do” like doing the homework she tried to botch again, “Besides, what I planned is some boy time, you see son? Just the two of us! No girls!” Arthur grinned and tried to emphasize the manliness of doing boy time things between father and son by fisting the air and flexing. To say that Matthew remained thoroughly unimpressed would be an understatement.

     “Now you’re just being sexist.” He said with a put.

     Arthur’s arms just fell at his sides. He sure didn’t remember being such a contrarian, and now the boy was starting to sound like Marianne. The game he had planned for Matt and him decidedly wasn’t going as planned and he wasn’t sure about what he did wrong. His own lack of father-son time when he was young certainly had some impact but still…

     “Come on, Matty, don’t be like that. You really don’t want to shoot some balls with your Dad? I promise it’ll be fun, I had it all planned, see?” he waved toward the two white posts he had planted yesterday to stand as the goal and the shiny new football he’s been carrying around all this time. “And if we train good together maybe I could enlist you in a club latter? You’d like that?”

     Now Matthew started to look more interested, their frequent moves between France and England have prevented him to play in a club thus far and the idea of being able to mingle more with the other kids definitely appealed to him. “I think I’d like that, yes.”

     “That’s my boy! Now we have to give you an edge if you are to play in a real club, work on your shoots” Arthur scampered toward his home-made goals, put his gloves on and threw the football at his son. “I’ll be the goalkeeper, and you do the shoots. Don’t go easy on me, Matty ‘cause I won’t! Ready?”

 

     Matthew nodded and shot a first time. The ball lazily rolled toward Arthur who threw it back, “Come on, Matt! Harder!”. The second shoot somehow left the ground but still landed at the man’s feet, the boy clearly didn’t put all of his energy in it. “Come on, Son!! This is football! Not a game of catch! Are you going to land some goals or will you keep shooting like a pansy?” Arthur yelled while throwing the ball back.

     Now the boy was starting to get riled up, maybe by the additional dose of sexism his father just spat at him. The third shoot was definitely better but Arthur could still catch it. The fourth one was even better and Arthur couldn’t catch it although it ended missing the goal. “You’re doing better and better, Matty. Try not to miss the goal next time!” Arthur heard something like his name being called as he threw the ball back with some added encouragements. He elected to focus on his son instead. Matthew was really starting to get into the game, his face now showed focus and even gave off a feeling of competition. He started to take a few steps back to get some recoil. “Good” thought Arthur “Now we’re starting to get serious.” He extended his arms and widened the space between his legs to give himself more balance.

 

     « _Lapin !_ »

     Now he clearly heard his wife calling him, he turned to see Marianne approaching with a sulking Amelia clutching her hand. He heard Matthew shooting the ball and turned to see it hurling at him. Too fast. Too low. Too late.

 

     When Marianne finally reached them, Arthur was reduced to a groaning mess on the ground, clutching his groin while Matthew was shaking his shoulders and saying “Dad, stop faking it! You’re English not Italian! Faker! Faker”.

     Somehow, this scene lifted Amelia’s bad mood and she decided to join the fun by doing an angel leap on her father sides. The cry of pain he let out inspired Matthew to giggle and do the same. Marianne was very tempted to join the dogpile her children were subjecting their father to, but decided to add some tickling instead.

 

     Days later, Matthew choose to enlist to the Hockey club instead, much to Arthur’s chagrin.

**Author's Note:**

> For those who don't remember " _mon lapin _" means "my bunny"__  
>  Let me know if I messed up the grammar and thanks for the comments as usual!


End file.
